FIC: No Shortcuts
Title: No Shortcuts
Author: twilights_blue
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Descriptions of dying
Word Count: 643
Summary: She looked down at the fallen woman, eyes alight in amusement. “Did you find it, by the way? Happiness? Did your money give you that?”
Author's notes: Third entry for brigits_flame. Written in a day, rushed. I kinda think this is an experiment of how short you can cut a story and still have it be coherent.
Susanna’s hands scrabbled at the cold concrete underneath her, trying to coax her body into inching, crawling, anything. She was aware - but it was a distant awareness - that she was dying, her life pouring out of the bullet holes that perforated her torso. The pain had receded a while ago to be replaced with this blank, numb state that could only be shock. She blamed the shock for why she was still making a weak attempt to move and find help, even while logic was telling her that nothing and no one could save her at this point.
It took her longer than usual to notice the sound of heels clicking down the pavement. The footsteps were slow and measured, instead of the alarmed, rushed flurry that Susanna was hoping to hear. Whoever was approaching, it seemed, was not prepared to offer any assistance.
The footsteps stopped a couple feet away, at Susanna’s back. Had she the strength to turn over, she would face this newcomer, but as it was all she could do to continue to breathe. She lay there, waiting, hoping that whoever was there would leave soon and let her go back to dying in peace.
There was the metallic clink of a lighter flicking open and, a few seconds later, closed. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted down as whoever was standing over her exhaled in a long sigh.
“Well,” the smoker said, voice low and throaty, “it looks like someone really went to town on you.”
Susanna knew that voice and, as the speaker stepped around so that she was in view, Susanna saw that she was right in her assumption. It was Mona, dressed in red and looking like she should be partying with the rich and famous instead of slumming it here in the downtown alleyways. Mona, the woman who had started this entire mess with the offer of a contract, appeared to have shown up to watch it all end.
“You should know better than to piss off mob lords, dear,” Mona said, red lips curling around the end of her cigarette. “They tend to have nasty tempers.”
Susanna’s hands had stilled, most of her energy sapped away by the blood pouring out of her wounds. Still, she found that she had the strength to rasp out a fragment of a question: “The money ... ?”
“It was theirs, originally. Despite my abilities, I can’t just make money out of nothing; it has to already exist somewhere.” Mona took a drag and exhaled slowly. “It was only a matter of time before they tracked down where it went.”
She looked down at the fallen woman, eyes alight in amusement. “Did you find it, by the way? Happiness? Did your money give you that?”
Susanna couldn’t answer, all of her focus on her shallow breaths and even shallower heartbeat. It didn’t seem that Mona was looking for an answer, though. She turned and walked a few steps away, head tilted up, breathing out smoke like a monster from hell.
“Funny things, humans,” Mona said. Her voice was edged with laughter. “You’re always looking for shortcuts, for ways to make life easier. Shortcuts to health, shortcuts to power, shortcuts to happiness ... "
She dropped her cigarette to the concrete and ground it out with one pedicured foot. It appeared that she was on a roll, more focused on the problems of humanity than on the one human slowly dying on the pavement behind her.
"It’s funny, really. Without your kind’s obsession with shortcuts my people would be struggling to find ways to collect nice little souls like yours."
She sighed. “When will you guys ever learn?” Mona turned to face Susanna once more and gave the dying woman one of the most terrifying smiles she had ever seen. “In life, there are no shortcuts.”
Author: twilights_blue
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Descriptions of dying
Word Count: 643
Summary: She looked down at the fallen woman, eyes alight in amusement. “Did you find it, by the way? Happiness? Did your money give you that?”
Author's notes: Third entry for brigits_flame. Written in a day, rushed. I kinda think this is an experiment of how short you can cut a story and still have it be coherent.
Susanna’s hands scrabbled at the cold concrete underneath her, trying to coax her body into inching, crawling, anything. She was aware - but it was a distant awareness - that she was dying, her life pouring out of the bullet holes that perforated her torso. The pain had receded a while ago to be replaced with this blank, numb state that could only be shock. She blamed the shock for why she was still making a weak attempt to move and find help, even while logic was telling her that nothing and no one could save her at this point.
It took her longer than usual to notice the sound of heels clicking down the pavement. The footsteps were slow and measured, instead of the alarmed, rushed flurry that Susanna was hoping to hear. Whoever was approaching, it seemed, was not prepared to offer any assistance.
The footsteps stopped a couple feet away, at Susanna’s back. Had she the strength to turn over, she would face this newcomer, but as it was all she could do to continue to breathe. She lay there, waiting, hoping that whoever was there would leave soon and let her go back to dying in peace.
There was the metallic clink of a lighter flicking open and, a few seconds later, closed. The smell of cigarette smoke drifted down as whoever was standing over her exhaled in a long sigh.
“Well,” the smoker said, voice low and throaty, “it looks like someone really went to town on you.”
Susanna knew that voice and, as the speaker stepped around so that she was in view, Susanna saw that she was right in her assumption. It was Mona, dressed in red and looking like she should be partying with the rich and famous instead of slumming it here in the downtown alleyways. Mona, the woman who had started this entire mess with the offer of a contract, appeared to have shown up to watch it all end.
“You should know better than to piss off mob lords, dear,” Mona said, red lips curling around the end of her cigarette. “They tend to have nasty tempers.”
Susanna’s hands had stilled, most of her energy sapped away by the blood pouring out of her wounds. Still, she found that she had the strength to rasp out a fragment of a question: “The money ... ?”
“It was theirs, originally. Despite my abilities, I can’t just make money out of nothing; it has to already exist somewhere.” Mona took a drag and exhaled slowly. “It was only a matter of time before they tracked down where it went.”
She looked down at the fallen woman, eyes alight in amusement. “Did you find it, by the way? Happiness? Did your money give you that?”
Susanna couldn’t answer, all of her focus on her shallow breaths and even shallower heartbeat. It didn’t seem that Mona was looking for an answer, though. She turned and walked a few steps away, head tilted up, breathing out smoke like a monster from hell.
“Funny things, humans,” Mona said. Her voice was edged with laughter. “You’re always looking for shortcuts, for ways to make life easier. Shortcuts to health, shortcuts to power, shortcuts to happiness ... "
She dropped her cigarette to the concrete and ground it out with one pedicured foot. It appeared that she was on a roll, more focused on the problems of humanity than on the one human slowly dying on the pavement behind her.
"It’s funny, really. Without your kind’s obsession with shortcuts my people would be struggling to find ways to collect nice little souls like yours."
She sighed. “When will you guys ever learn?” Mona turned to face Susanna once more and gave the dying woman one of the most terrifying smiles she had ever seen. “In life, there are no shortcuts.”